a dream i had last night, written as i remember it:

dining on a school bus, insides stripped and remodeled to look just like a restaurant.  elderly people all around me, people i’ve met in my life, many of whom i know are dead.  outside i see about a dozen people: white people, black people, mexicans.  they chase a mexican down and attack him, beating him with whatever they have: bats, boards.  they stop when his body goes limp and looks like a ragdoll.  he is lying on his stomach.  another mexican gets on top of him and picks his head up.  blood and teeth gushout of his mouth and collect in a pothole beneath his head.  the living mexican slams the dead mexican’s head down on the the asphalt and it bounces once.  they all turn around and see us in the school bus, watching him.  an old woman in the front of the bus who i remember from kindergarten screams “they’re coming for us!” it’s a horrible shriek, and we try to start paddling the bus away from the mob, a gang actually, having their tuesday night party, but the water leven seems to have gotten incredibly low.  then i’m standing outside of a bar or a restaurant talking to a girl and guy, both of whom are in the gang.  we are smoking together.

“why did you remember that they were both mexicans?” the girl asks me.

“i don’t know,” i answer.  my alarm then wakes me up.